


lionheart

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Coming Inside, Fluff and Smut, Halloween, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Married Sex, Monsterfucking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Trans Male Character, Were-Creatures, Werelion Dimitri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Those humans who might mate for life with a werebeast are a rare breed.For Kinktober 2020 and FE3H Monsterfuck Weekend.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43
Collections: kinktober 2020





	lionheart

**Author's Note:**

> everyone else is so so relentlessly horny for monsterfucking and im over here like. okay but what if you were in a LOVING MARRIAGE with the monster and you had MARITAL SEX and FOUR KIDS and a RURAL HOUSE
> 
> anyway enjoy weredimitri getting some dick. ambiguous terms used for genitalia, reference is made to dimitri having had children before- if either is upsetting to you, i recommend clicking away.

The over-social slog of All Hallow’s Eve, Dedue finds, hardly needs to pass without relief. 

It is, despite everything, Dimitri who is facing him. Though his mane of sun-shimmer hair has warped into something more literal, and though his clear-sky blue eyes have warped into black-and-gold feline slits, Dedue can see him. He can see him spread out on the heavy wooden antique bed _they’ve_ shared for ten years. _His_ claws are the ones which have gouged out chunks of wooden flesh from the bedframe, _his_ mouth has warped into a wanton grin, and _his_ tail swishes over his slit enchantingly- 

and he’s _wet_. 

Dedue affords himself infinite thanks for having put their children to bed almost as soon as they arrived home from trick-or-treating. They’re too young to be affected by the full moon in the way their father is- easing them into that lingers on the distant horizon, at least for now. But he can’t have them awake, gorging themselves on strangers’ candies and the leftovers of his own Duscur burnt caramel fudge. 

_This_ time is for him and Dimitri. 

As if it’s any other night, Dedue clambers into bed beside his husband, though without pulling the deep-blue sheets to cover his half-bare body. He shuts his eyes, and _feels_ Dimitri’s presence next to him, the amenable purring rumble he makes as Dedue sidles closer to the feverish warmth his transformed self emits. 

The fur of Dimitri’s upper-thigh is dense. Dedue runs his hands through it like a beach’s thick blanket of sand, and Dimitri rewards him with a firm kiss that hints at the jaggedness of his newly-sprouted teeth. 

His voice changes at this time- Dedue is well-prepared for it. He’s learned, over the course of years, to understand Dimitri even when everything he says comes out not as in his sincere and wonderful human voice, but as a series of rumblings from the core of his chest that take an almost impossible patience (one he’s learnt, in parts) to decipher in full. When Dimitri rubs the corners of his mouth against the slope of his neck- covering him with a scent that nobody but a moonlit Dimitri can even smell- he _knows_ what his husband wants. 

Careful to make no sudden movements as he does, Dedue nudges Dimitri back onto the flat of his back, palm brushing the pale-furred feline belly in encouragement. Dimitri growls stubbornly, the transformed equivalent of _why can’t I plant flower seeds at any time_ of year or _why can’t we just snuggle more in the mornings. I miss you when you leave early_. 

He obliges, though, eventually- he always does. 

Dedue’s caress dips further south, down the scars and stretch marks that Dimitri has accumulated over thirty-five long years of living. He kisses, tender, the epicentre of a scar that stretches across his right side; the unfortunate consequence of him being on the wrong side of a blade. A rumbling sound of satisfaction reverberates in his chest, and Dedue gets up to sit on his knees between Dimitri’s legs. 

“Are you ready, my lionheart?” 

Dimitri’s paws- which lay flat across his stomach, lest his clumsy unawareness of his own claws cause the bedsheets to be torn- shift and knead idly against each other in approval and encouragement. Slowly, Dedue slips his underwear away from where it covers his hips, all the while watching how the dark-slit pupils of Dimitri’s eyes expand as he observes the sight unfold in front of him. 

Cock in hand, Dedue guides himself slowly into Dimitri, who in his shifting and the rapid oscillation of his heartbeat does not deny him his entry. He’s so wonderfully slick that Dedue faces little resistance; he knows that with his claws, Dimitri can’t open himself up in preparation, and he rejoices in the knowledge that such raw enthusiasm is solely a product of his anticipation. Low growls echo in his chest as Dedue groans; already shaky from the tight wetness that envelops him. 

His twitching legs hang from the foot of the bed as he thrusts; unsteadiness building into an instinctual rhythm as Dimitri contracts and pushes around him, somehow even needier than he. When the weightlessness of pleasure overtakes him, Dedue sidles comfortably into it; wears it like a long-loved gardening glove. It’s something he’s only ever felt from Dimitri- and something that he knows Dimitri has only ever felt from him.

Twelve years. Dedue hardly needs to look up at Dimitri to know he wishes for dozens more, in whatever incarnation his lover might take. Waves of possessiveness roll through him, still, as he chooses to look upon Dimitri regardless, maps every scar and stretch mark and thatch of torn fur to the times he had tended them, and looked upon them with a fondness others were rarely capable of. 

He whispers a pointed _mine_ into the shell of Dimitri’s ear when it all becomes too much, when the tightness that envelops him necessitates some release; lest his body be unable to bear it. Dimitri growls in approval, wrapping his paws around Dedue’s wrists with his claws ever-so-slightly unsheathed. 

_If I leave the bedroom tonight with fresh scratches_ , Dedue resolves to himself, _I will be nothing but grateful_. 

He continues to fuck Dimitri- to lavish him with the most base attention possible, and be lavished with such in return- in, for the most part, silence, patience (for he knows well that twelve years and four children do not leave one with the greatest of stamina) restraining each moan that might escape his chest. Dimitri does not reciprocate entirely- the thrusts between his spread thighs out of his control or prediction- but much of his output manifests in growls and purrs, low enough that it is solely Dedue who is privileged to enjoy them in their full capacity. 

Dedue’s mind goes white as he finishes, his sudden pulsing inside of Dimitri surprising him and causing him to dig in with the sharp tips of his claws. When the pleasure and pain intermingle, however, it is the pleasure that wins out inside of Dedue, who comes inside of Dimitri seconds before Dimitri himself finishes with a great and high-pitched wail. 

In his comedown, he collapses against Dimitri, crawls up against his warmth as if drawing a fur cloak closer to him for protection. He lies there breathless; his body rendered a ragged and love-shaking thing. 

He knows that come the morning, Dimitri will not look the way he does. That there will be consequences for what they have done- a mess to clear, and wounds to tend. He, and his family, will step closer to the darkness of the winter season. 

He embraces his rest, his home, regardless.


End file.
